


After Sourcery

by Elsinore_and_Inverness



Category: Discworld
Genre: Gen, He ate a moth, I just really love Vetinari, The psychological distress of having been turned into a lizard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:41:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21938383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elsinore_and_Inverness/pseuds/Elsinore_and_Inverness
Summary: “I ate a moth,” the Patrician said quietly.“I’m sorry?” Mr. Lane blinked at the ruler of the city in confusion.
Comments: 10
Kudos: 46





	After Sourcery

“I ate a moth,” the Patrician said quietly.

“I’m sorry?” Mr. Lane blinked at the ruler of the city in confusion. 

Vetinari had been walking Wuffles past the large-paned windows of the palace when suddenly he stopped, staring at the glass. The little dog looked up at him in concern. He was seized by the sensation of being trapped, that he couldn’t take more than a couple of steps without hitting a wall. 

Wuffles whined at him and he knelt down as the elderly dog rather unpleasantly licked his face in an attempt at comfort. He was a loyal dog and had seen him through many misadventures. He hadn’t had anyone to talk to when he looked at the calendar that afternoon and saw it was fourteen days later than he remembered it being. 

Mr. Lane was servant who had been hired two—no, four—weeks ago and was generally still under the impression that Lord Vetinari ruled with force rather than his wits. He was startled to see the Patrician nearly lying on the ground, holding his dog to his chest like it was a life line. 

Vetinari opened his eyes. The sense of claustrophobia had mellowed to a dull unease somewhere between nausea and anxious fear.

“My lord—“ Mr. Lane began cautiously. 

“Would anyone mind telling me where exactly I have been from the second to sixteenth of this month?” 

One of the odd things about Lord Vetinari was that no one thought he was mad. He had his hang-ups of course, a hatred of mime artists, a dislike of listening to live music, but no one doubted that he saw reality in the cold light of day. 

“I think it’s a bit fuzzy for all of us, sir.” Mr. Lane said eventually. “Papers were saying it was thermaturgical disturbances, sir. Perhaps you’re more...” he floundered, not knowing how Vetinari would take being called sensitive. 

There was a fly making a slow spiral across the garden and Vetinari’s eyes locked onto it, following its every movement. Finally he looked away and confessed what he had done earlier that evening. 

“Do you think you might have been turned into something?” Mr. Lane, who made a point of being well-informed, asked tentatively. “A frog perhaps? Or a lizard?”

“It’s very possible.” Vetinari was methodically stroking his old terrier. Wuffles would remember, even if he didn’t. “It’s astonishing that this city’s managed to hold together with me out of the way. It usually doesn’t.” 

“Would you like a cup of tea?”

Vetinari shook his head “Can’t handle the caffeine.”

Mr. Lane tried not to stare as Vetinari climbed slowly to his feet, took a long look at the glass windows, sighed, and began walking back toward the door of the palace. 

It was very hard to tell how much of what you saw of Vetinari was staged to create a certain effect. Surely not all of it?


End file.
